


One Third of Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll

by LittleSpacePrince



Series: Tale Teller's Daily Writing Challenge [20]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bathroom Sex, College student Bruce, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Rock star Tony, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Shameless Smut, Smut, might write a sequel haven't decided
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 03:02:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13802013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSpacePrince/pseuds/LittleSpacePrince
Summary: Prompt:AU of your choiceIn which Tony proves Bruce wrong about Porta Potties.





	One Third of Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll

**Author's Note:**

> How does one choose just one au

“What are you up to, brown eyes?”

Bruce glanced up from his book - a tattered Anatomy book, worn from endless nights of studying. In front of him stood a man, short, with a personality that seemed entirely too big for his bones. Dark hair and dark eyes, dressed in an AC/DC t-shirt, flannel, and jeans, though judging by his haircut and his shoes and his perfectly-groomed goatee, he certainly wasn't poor. No doubt, he came from money. Wonder, why someone coming from wealth would approach him, with his tattered jeans and shoes with holes in the bottoms. 

The year was 1992. The setting, an outdoor music festival at which Bruce Banner had no interest being. Yet here he sat, textbook open and pencil jotting notes into the margins, approached by some handsome stranger. Bruce raised his book from his knee, just enough to reveal the cover. He wasn't quite interested in making friends, or conversation. Making friends and conversation were what had landed him here in the first place. He was better without. 

Though, he couldn't quite bring himself to admit that he wasn't at least mildly interested. 

Gay. He'd known it for awhile now, though he kept it quiet. How could he not? Sin, they screamed, damned to hell, damned to rot, damned to die of some terrible disease without a cure. So he kept it quiet, denied himself everything that he wanted for the sake of safety. People like him got killed, murdered just for being themselves. It wasn't safe. But he let himself steal glances from the other side, let himself admire and fantasize from the safety of the sidelines. And damn, if the view wasn't a good one. 

“Studying.” Bruce muttered. 

“Studying. At a music festival.” He scoffed, taking a seat down in front of him, legs crossed and folding his hands in his lap. “That just doesn't seem right. You should be rocking out, or snorting something, or fucking someone in a Porta Potty. Not _studying.”_

“I kinda got dragged here.” Bruce explained, gesturing toward the crowd of people a little ways off, where Val and Loki and Thor found themselves yelling along to the music coming from the stage. “And fucking someone in a Porta Potty doesn't sound even remotely appealing. Those things smell.” 

He gave a small shrug, offering a crooked smirk. “It's more enjoyable than one would think.”

 

\----

 

“Occupied!” Bruce yelled as someone pounded on the door of the stall they were currently occupying, undoubtedly shaking the entire thing. Tony had slammed him against the wall before grinding up against him, making no effort of concealment, the only thing hiding their obscenities behind four plastic walls. And somehow, that was what made the whole thing even hotter. 

It didn't take long to convince him. Maybe he was a little pent up, a little too sexually repressed, and it didn't take much to get him going. Didn't take long at all to get him hard, or to convince him to join him in the Porta Potty, to put Tony’s theory of it not being so bad for sex to the test. Of course, he didn't have much in the way of a control subject, not much to compare it to, but just from the kissing and the gyrating and the necking and grinding, Bruce was already pretty damn convinced that this was going to be good. 

Bruce squirmed as Tony undid the button of his jeans, freeing his cock of its denim confines. He was already painfully hard, cock ruddy and wet at the tip, pre-cum leaking down his shaft and over Tony’s hand. He twitched hard at the brush of his hand, never having been touched there by anyone but himself. It felt like a shock down his spine, drawing a small gasp from his lips as the older man lightly began to stroke him, thumb sweeping over the head of his cock as he set a rhythmic pace. 

“I've never done this before.” Bruce whispered, bucking slightly into his hand as sweat began bead at his forehead, chest beginning to heave. 

“It's okay, beautiful.” He chuckled, voice breathy and soft as he gave another tug at his cock, drawing a hiss from Bruce’s lips. “Let me do all the work.” 

He went weak in the knees, and damn near collapsed as Tony freed his own length. It was thicker than Bruce’s if not quite as long, pink and stiff and leaking. Bruce felt weak. He'd never seen another man’s cock outside of his clinicals, never seen something so obscene, something so filthy, something so fucking perfect. He let out a shuddered breath, trembling as Tony pressed himself against Bruce’s length, holding them tight together, circled between both hands. 

He watched as Tony began to pump his hands around their cocks, mesmerized by the sight until the older man claimed his lips again. He found himself lost in the sensation, overcome by feeling. How reckless this was, giving himself over to a stranger, allowing a pretty boy whose very last name remained a mystery to take the things he’d worked hard to preserve, selling himself at the first sign of flirtation. How reckless. How stupid. How wonderful. 

Minutes. That was all it took for him to fall apart. Mere seconds ticking by, and Bruce was already close. It almost upset him, though he wasn't certain what else he expected from a quickie in a Porta Potty. It wasn't some romantic gesture to be stretched out into the night. It was a messy handjob shared in a bathroom stall, never meant to be anything other than fast, but still, Bruce wished that this could continue indefinitely, wished that the seconds could stretch into eternities. 

It was Tony’s fingers that finally pushed him over the edge. Pushing up on his ratty Pink Floyd t-shirt, hand pressing against the plain of his stomach as he continued to stroke with one hand, thumb sweeping over the leaking heads of their cocks with each upstroke. It was dizzying, it was wonderful, it was overwhelming, it was incredible. It was what sent him teetering over the edge until he lost himself and came hot and sticky between them. 

He didn't see any point in holding back the noise that erupted from his chest; it wasn't like everyone didn't already know what they were doing in there. He cried out as his entire body jerked, seizing as if electricity was coursing through his veins. His pelvic floor contracted almost violently, head spinning as he struggled to keep his footing, his fingers digging into Tony’s shoulders as he struggled not to collapse. 

Tony’s orgasm followed suit moments later, as Bruce struggled to steady himself. He could feel the hot semen spray against his belly, his own and Tony’s. His knees threatened to give way as he continued to stroke Bruce’s softening cock, until he was finished and every ounce of sperm that he had in him was milked from him. Until they were both finished and sated. 

Bruce could hardly stand, let alone think straight enough to clean himself up. Still, Tony held true to his promise to do all the work. He watched through drooping eyes as Tony reached over, pulling some toilet paper from the roll and running it over damp flesh, cleaning the semen from his belly as he leaned back against the wall, struggling to catch his breath. 

“Still not even a little appealing?” Tony teased, tucking Bruce's softened cock back into his jeans and zipping him up. 

“Shut up.” Bruce chuckled, leaning forward and pulling into the older man’s embrace. 

A one time thing, surely. No sense in getting attached, really. What would he have to do with him? What would anyone have to do with him, any more than a quick fuck? But still, there was something almost delirious in him, suggesting that there might be something more there than just a fling. Something more than the Porta Potty they'd just fucked in. 

“Hey, do you wanna…” Bruce began, unsure of what he was going to ask. Walk around? Meet again? Do _this_ again? Commit to something they had no business committing to? 

“Call you sometime? Sure.” He replied, finishing his sentence before Bruce had even thought of it. He pulled a pen from his back pocket, pulling Bruce’s arm toward him and jotting down a number before the younger man even had time to react. “It might be best that we just exchange numbers. I get an ego boost when cute boys call first, I can get pretty impatient when cute boys don't call fast enough. What's your number?” 

Bruce tentatively took Tony’s arm and jotted his number down on the palm of his hand. Tony glanced down at it and smiled before turning to the door. 

“I'll see you out there. And try to keep your nose out of the anatomy book. You've only got a third of the sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll done. You ought to get around to the drugs and rock’n’roll at some point today.” He said, straightening his clothes before grabbing the handle. 

“Wait, why don't you stick around?” Bruce started. He knew he probably sounded needy, but the hormones from his orgasm were still pumping through him and he couldn't bring himself to care. 

“Why do you think, pretty boy?” Tony answered with a cheeky grin, leaning forward and pressing a small kiss against his nose. “I gotta get on stage.”


End file.
